


Parrish Fell Asleep

by qwertybob



Series: Parrish Does Something Mundane [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, College, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-The Raven King, Romance, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch is Bad at Feelings, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertybob/pseuds/qwertybob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan is visiting Adam at college for the weekend, but when Adam doesn't show up to meet him, Ronan has no chill. </p><p>(Or: Ronan is a big fucking marshmallow with tattoos and Adam is a precious human being.)</p><p>Sequel companion fic is Parrish Gets Jealous (http://archiveofourown.org/works/7091047)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parrish Fell Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> I use the word "fuck/fucking" 33 times in this (but not the actual act itself), so fair warning. There's also a Mean Girls quote in there somewhere because Mean Girls.
> 
> EDIT: I made some small changes since posting, so if you're here for the second time (Jesus, what's wrong with you), it might be slightly different than the first time you read it (JK, I love you, please don't go). Namely, a bit more Tanya, and a Pynch kiss because how could I not include that in the first place.
> 
> Also, the companion sequel fic is Parrish Gets Jealous (http://archiveofourown.org/works/7091047).

Ronan Lynch is angry. Not because he’s been waiting in the cold for two fucking hours for his boyfriend to meet him at the theatre for a movie he didn’t even want to see in the first place; not even because he had to drive here for hours at break-neck speeds just to get here on time, which resulted in a $200 ticket; and it's definitely not because he had to bribe Declan with dream things to take Opal for the weekend.

No, Ronan Lynch is fucking angry because Adam won’t pick up his phone. It’s been two hours, and Ronan can’t remember how to get to Adam’s dorm because all of these college buildings are industrial clones. This entire place is basically a hellhole for anyone with a soul, and Ronan is so fucking mad with worry, he is ready to tear the universe a new asshole.

“Adam,” he growls into the phone for the hundredth time. “You better not be dead, because if you are, I’m going to fucking weep over your corpse.”

Ronan assures himself that the non-threat sounded more threatening than the actual words themselves. It’s the best he can do right now. He will think of something better when he finds Adam alive. 

When Ronan finally stumbles upon a building that looks familiar, his fingers are frozen stiff and his teeth are chattering and he’s pretty sure his toes have turned black inside his boots, but he doesn’t care because at least he’s not aimlessly walking around campus snarling at everyone.

Ronan is cold and angry and still fucking worried, but he makes every effort to wipe the glare off his face because he knows how that can scare people. And right now, he needs to be fucking charming.

“Hello,” he says, trying for a smile and cursing himself when the doorman/security guard scowls in return. “I’m looking for Adam Parrish.”

The man is portly and sort of sags around the middle, and Ronan is willing to bet he hasn’t gotten out of that chair for at least five hours. His mustache twitches. “For what?”

Would he believe him if Ronan told the truth? He can imagine the man’s scoff, the quiver of his mustache when he tells him Adam is his boyfriend. 

The man gives Ronan a cursory inspection, judgment already written in his eyes before Ronan can get a word out. He’s wearing a leather jacket, his black jeans are ripped, his tattoo creeps up his neck, and he’s massaging his frozen fingers like he is warming up for a fight. He immediately stops, but that just draws further attention to the fact that he was doing in it the first place. The security guard stiffens and Ronan sighs.

“Adam’s my boyfriend,” Ronan says, gritting his teeth and trying to soften the glare that seems to be permanently part of his face. The muscles in his forehead feel wrong, and he hopes that's a sign that it's working. “He didn’t show up for our date and he’s not picking up his phone. I just want to check if he’s in his room—you can accompany me, if you want—” 

Before the security guard can reply, a loud cheerful voice yells Ronan’s name and he turns to meet the shining smile of Adam’s RA, Tanya. Tanya, with the bouncing brown curls and the bouncing big breasts and the smile that would send straight boys to their knees if the first two didn’t already. 

“Ronan Lynch! I knew I recognized that shaved head! Get over here!”

Ronan grunts in surprise when she wraps her long arms around his neck and squishes his face into her shoulder. He didn’t like Tanya when he first met her because of precisely this reason—especially because she hugged Adam _all the time_ , and the asshole would come out of her arms with pink cheeks and a timid smile—but at this moment, Ronan is too cold and too relieved and too fucking scared to care that this virtual stranger is hugging him. The warmth is too inviting and he leans into her hug, sighing against her shirt.

“Are you here for Adam?” she asks when she releases him, flashing him another perfect-for-straight-boys smile. 

“Yes,” he gasps, clearing his throat as the desperation claws its way up. “He’s not picking up his phone. Is he in his room?”

She shrugs, careless, beautiful, young and free. “Probably. He’s always studying so hard, that precious boy.”

“I know,” Ronan sighs, barely above a whisper.

“I’ll sign him in, Marty,” Tanya says to the slack-jawed security guard as she takes a pen and signs her name with a flourish on the sign-in sheet. Marty blinks, stares at Ronan while trying to reconcile the new information with the person standing in front of him. Marty doesn't look like he's having much luck. "This is Ronan Lynch, Adam Parrish's boyfriend." 

When Adam calls Ronan his boyfriend, he says it cautiously, like the fragile thing will break in his hands if he says it too loud. Like someone will wake him from a dream he doesn't want to leave.

When Ronan calls Adam his boyfriend, he says it like a challenge, daring anyone who has a problem with it to come at him, fists raised. 

But when Tanya says it, she says it like a fact, as indisputable as someone saying, "Gravity exists," or, "Earth is the third planet from the sun," or, "Green is my favorite color." You can't break it if you say it too loudly. You can't fight it with your fists raised. It just  _is_. 

Ronan needs to learn how to say it like that: a fact, not a challenge, not a fragile theory yet to be proven true. Ronan feels another surge of gratitude and affection towards his once-sworn enemy. When he first met her, he thought her to be overly familiar, but now he sees that Tanya just understands everyone right away, and its impossible not to hug someone you understand. 

“Adam Parrish?” Marty squints, looking Ronan up and down. “The pretty one with the light hair?”

You can tell a man gravity exists, but if his brain is too small to comprehend why an apple falls from a tree, you've done all you can for him and you simply move on. 

That's what Tanya does as Ronan snarls. She pulls him out of the lobby towards Adam’s room—through a complicated set of hallways and stairs that he never would have found on his own—and Ronan gives her a heartfelt thank-you and a fist bump before she leaves.

The college kids are throwing a party in the hallway and some drunk idiot shoves him, and immediately backs away when he sees Ronan’s face. It’s so loud and it smells like beer and B.O. and stale saliva. Ronan’s heart is in his throat as he pounds on the door.

“Parrish!” he yells, but his voice is drowned out by the party sounds. “Adam, are you in there? Open the fucking door!”

“Hey!” says a voice to Ronan’s left, yanking on his arm. Ronan reacts automatically and grabs the idiot by the throat, slamming his head against the wall.

“Fuck!” the boy yells, dropping his red cup on Ronan’s foot and spilling beer all over his boot. Ronan growls and presses the guy’s face harder against the drywall. “What the fuck do you want? This is my room!” 

“Shit.” Ronan drops his hand as the kid rubs his neck and the side of his head. He has that ‘Gansey’ look about him: pressed polo shirt, combed hair, skin that looks like its been pampered even before he was born, but it's mixed with high-browed arrogance and zero depth of motivation that makes him distinctly ‘not-Gansey.’

Ronan grits his teeth, realizing that this was Adam’s infamous roommate. Adam mentioned his name once, but it has slipped Ronan's mind. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Who _are_ you? Do you even go to this school?” 

“Fuck, _no_. I’m Adam’s boyfriend." Fact, not a challenge. "Mind letting me in so I can check if he’s in there?” 

Roommate’s eyes widen and he gives Ronan the same appraising look the security guard gave him downstairs. The same small brain too underdeveloped to understand that gravity exists. When he’s finished, Ronan is fuming and Roommate lets out an enormous laugh. “You’re serious?”

“Open the fucking door, or I’m going to finish painting the wall with your face.”

Sorry Tanya. Sometimes force is the only way. 

Roommate frowns, obviously not used to being told what to do, but Ronan cracks a knuckle and distorts his face into his favorite mask. The fear in Roommate’s eyes makes Ronan smirk, and Not-Gansey reaches for his keys. 

Ronan holds his breath as the door pops open. The room is dark. Nothing moves. But then Ronan sees him. Air rushes into his lungs and he has to lean against the wall for support and clutch at his chest to keep it from spilling all over the place.

Adam sleeps at his desk, hands pillowed under his temple, mouth parted and rustling a stack of papers with his breathing. He’s wearing noise-cancelling earphones in his hearing ear, and he’s so safe and perfect and _not dead_ that Ronan thinks he might cry.

“Not surprised,” Roommate drawls, ruining the moment. “Big fucking nerd.” 

Ronan yanks Not-Gansey by the collar and throws him out of the room, slamming the door in his aghast face. Ronan remembers at the last moment that Adam is sleeping, but he can’t catch the door in time before the wood rattles the frame.

Shit.

Adam shoots up in his chair, back straight, neck swivelling, eyes half-open, and Ronan just stands there, hoping Adam will think this is a dream and go back to sleep. But Adam’s eyes find Ronan in the dark, his expression confused and lovely.

“Ronan?”

Ronan Lynch had been angry. He had been scared. He had been ready to start a fight with a middle-aged portly security guard and a Not-Gansey clone. And when he finally confirmed that Adam was alive, Ronan Lynch had been so relieved he could have wept a river. He had been prepared to let Adam sleep for as long as he wanted, but now that the shithead is awake, Ronan is fucking pissed again.

He ignores the sleepy way Adam says his name, like a hint of a dream, a hopeful prayer. “You fell asleep, Parrish.” 

Adam blinks, then he takes out his earbud and realization dawns on his face. He looks horrified, but it’s only mildly satisfying. Adam checks his watch and squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temples. “Ronan, fuck, I’m so sorry—”

Adam stands, but Ronan is already moving towards him. He grabs Adam’s shoulders and crushes him against his chest. Adam inhales sharply against Ronan’s shoulder, completely still, but Ronan doesn’t care. Anger be damned, he squeezes Adam against him as reassurance that he is alive. Adam is safe, this is not a dream, and there will be no fucking weeping over anyone’s corpses.

Adam’s arms wrap around Ronan’s back, his warm hands sneaking up Ronan's shirt and splaying across his cold skin. His fingers lazily run across the ink. Ronan's exhale is shaky, and his inhale is full of Adam—sleep and sunshine, even in the winter. He's warm and solid and his hair brushes against Ronan's ear. Something inside Ronan breaks a little—in relief, in anger, in frustration, in _something else_ that hurts too much to name.

“I thought you were dead,” Ronan snarls, but it sounds like he’s admitting something much more intimate than what he was going for.

“Sorry,” Adam says softly, squeezing tighter and moving his nose along Ronan’s neck. Ronan’s breathing catches, and he’s not sure if it’s because of Adam's hands on his back or because of the short, warm breaths against his skin. “I fell asleep.”

“You weren’t answering your phone.” The tone Ronan was going for was angry and indignant, but it comes out frustratingly soft. He tries again. "I called you a million times."

By the sound of Adam's chuckle, he doesn't think it was very successful. “Now you know how it feels.”

“Don’t fucking joke right now, you have no idea how close I am to punching a wall.” Still not quite hostile enough, but Ronan doesn't care anymore.

Adam laughs once and kisses Ronan’s neck. “By the way, I can’t breathe, so whenever you’re ready to let me go, it’d be much appreciated—”

Ronan releases him and Adam is trying to hide his shit-eating grin behind a look that’s supposed to be contrite. Even though Ronan puts distance between them, Adam's hands are still against his back and he uses them to pull Ronan right back towards him, clumsily kissing his jaw and moving upwards until their mouths meet. Ronan feels all of his worries melting as Adam kisses him, pliable and careless, young and free. His hands and tongue roam freely. Adam withdraws his hands from Ronan's back, and he almost complains, but then they move up Ronan's chest. One holds his neck to pull him closer and the other moves over his shaved head to make him groan. Adam laughs against his mouth and Ronan has to pull away because he is supposed to be bull  _angry_ , not docile like a lamb. He notes irritatingly that it only took a few moments to completely reverse the effects of two hours waiting and one hour searching in the biting horrible cold. He almost feels too hot now, held in Adam's hands, but he diverts it to fuel his anger.  

Ronan glares at Adam's fucking sexy expression, a mix of contentment from being thoroughly kissed, partially smug from Ronan's obvious enjoyment, and unguarded from sleepiness. Adam's hand is still moving along Ronan's head, and he really has to dig deep in order to summon the anger.

“You. Fell. _Asleep_. Parrish. We were supposed to meet three hours ago.”

Adam sighs and rubs his forehead, gently pulling out of Ronan's grip. He looks angry, but not at Ronan—at something else entirely. It makes Ronan wants to go find that thing and punch _it_ in the face.

“Ronan. I’m so sorry. I’ve just been so goddamn tired. I didn’t hear the alarm.”

“Were you studying?”

“Trying, but James and Becca were having sex again—”

Ronan snorts. “What? You got distracted by porn?”

Adam collapses onto his bed, falling onto his back and rubbing his face tiredly with both hands. Ronan watches him, the relief still making his heart pound unevenly. He should be angry. He should be making Adam pay for falling asleep when they were supposed to having fun in a dark room, but he can’t muster up the strength when Adam’s eyes are all heavy and soft. The bastard wouldn’t even appreciate Ronan swearing at him anyway.

This precious asshole gets away with so much because of Ronan’s weak heart. But after everything Adam Parrish has been through, he deserves to get away with a lot more. And Ronan Lynch is nothing if not obliging.  

Adam lets out a frustrated groan and Ronan remembers they were in the middle of a conversation. “No. James is my roommate. He and Becca are always fucking—during the day, between classes, at night, twenty-four-fucking-seven—and I spend half my nights in the library because they lock me out, or even worse, they just fuck while I’m in the room. I’ve learned how to sleep with my music on full blast. They were having sex while I was killing time waiting for you, but I guess I'm just conditioned to falling asleep with music and James and Becca's groaning now, so that's what happened. On another note, I guess it’s a good thing I’m deaf in one ear, huh?”

“Don’t you fucking dare joke about that, Parrish. Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry. _Fuck_. Goddamn it. I’m just—” Adam sighs. “So fucking tired.”  

Even lying down, Adam still looks like he needs to lie down.

Ronan kicks off his boots, pulls off his jacket and props up a chair against the door. Fuck James and his Not-Gansey-ness. Ronan regrets not doing more damage to the wall when he had the opportunity.

Ronan sits next to Adam on the bed. Their knees touch and Adam reaches over to grab Ronan’s hand. 

“Jesus, your hands are freezing,” he says sleepily.

“Yes, that’s what happens when you spend three hours terrified that your boyfriend is lying dead in a ditch somewhere when he's actually asleep at his fucking desk. We were supposed to be making out during a fucking movie I didn’t want to watch in the first place, Parrish. You have robbed me of that, so thanks, asshole.”

Adam drags Ronan’s hand to his mouth. Ronan swallows numbly when Adam plants hot kisses on each of his fingers and his palm, then holds his hand against his warm chest. Ronan can feel Adam's steady heartbeat through the contact. “Sorry. Really sorry. We can go now, if you want, catch the next one.” 

But Adam’s eyes are already closed and his voice is soft, and Ronan’s chest tugs into a miserably tight knot. Keeping his hand in Adam's, he scoots back on the bed, wincing as it bounces and creaks, and leans against the wall with his legs extended out in front of him. Adam’s breathing deepens and he curls into Ronan's side. Fast asleep.

Any residual anger Ronan was desperately trying to hold on to evaporates in an instant. He can't even remember why he was angry in the first place as he brushes the hair out of Adam’s face with his free hand. Adam's soft breaths tickle his arm.

The knot in Ronan’s chest gets miserably tighter.

“Fucking bastard,” he whispers, and it comes out exactly as he means it.

***

Ronan answers the phone on the first ring. Having experienced the other side for once, he will always answer the phone when it's Parrish on the other end, even if Ronan is lying in a ditch somewhere.

“Adam?”

“Ronan, you’re not dead, thank God.”

“ _Fuck_ you, Parrish.”

Adam laughs once, but it’s clipped and breathy, so Ronan waits for Adam to collect himself, already suspecting what the call is about.

“I got an interesting letter today.” 

“Regarding?”

Adam’s voice is impossible to read, oddly blank, frustratingly calm. “New room assignment. Apparently one of the single bed dorms opened up because the kid dropped out. They’re giving it to me because I’m on scholarship and should have had my own room anyway.”

“Congratulations.”

“Ronan.”

Ronan smirks, and he hopes Adam can hear it. “What?”

Adam exhales loudly. “Seriously?”

“I had nothing to do with it.”

“I thought you didn’t lie, Lynch.”

“I’m not lying. I had nothing to do with the kid dropping out. I’m good, but I’m not _that_ good.”

“Ronan, fuck you. Seriously. What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?”

“You're supposed to stop thinking about the past and focus on the future," Ronan pauses, grinning as a pleasantly inappropriate image of last weekend interrupts his thoughts. “The future meaning next weekend since I’ve already bribed Declan to take Opal. I think she's growing on him, to be honest. He might be willing to take her more frequently.”

Adam is quiet on the phone for a long time and Ronan’s chest is a ball of yarn being torn apart by sharp little claws.

“Fucking bastard,” Adam sighs, but Ronan can hear his smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my third Pynch fic in less than a week. I think I need therapy. Goddamn you, Stiefvater. Seriously, I have better things to do with my life than daydream about fictional gay boys and I really need help moving on with my life. 
> 
> (JK, I don't really have better things to do. #PynchForever #YOLO)
> 
> Now go read Parrish Gets Jealous --> http://archiveofourown.org/works/7091047


End file.
